Lupines and Lilies
by Nightjar
Summary: Slash 'So what’s your favourite flower, kid' 'Lupin… Lily… Lupin… Lily…' Voldemort’s dead and the war’s over, but at what price? Post Hogwarts EmelanHarry Potter Xover Features Insane!Harry HarryBriar, Past HarryBlaise
1. Chapter 1: Twentieth Day of Goose Moon

Miss Moony would like to say that she doesn't own Harry Potter or Circle of Magic and that she had no help with this story from Miss Wormtail, Miss Padfoot or Miss Prongs.

Miss Moony would also like to mention that this story is SLASH, contains psychological abuse, and parts are seen through the eyes of an insane person. Consider yourself warned.

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 1

No… Please… No more… No… Blood… Blood… Gushing… Pouring… Dead… All dead… Hello? … Somebody? … Anybody? …

A small, desperate voice called out into the abyss. 'Please don't leave me…'

It was the twentieth day of Goose Moon, and Briar Moss was eagerly anticipating the surprise that his foster-sisters and the Circle's various students had prepared for him. He was hoping it would include birthday cake.

He had come a long way since his days in the slums of Hajra, and he wouldn't change that for anything. He now had a home, at Winding Circle Temple in Emelan, three foster-sisters, Sandry, Daja and Tris, and a teacher that he idolised, Dedicate Rosethorn. He even had his own student, Evumeimei Dingzai of Yanjing. And, to top it all, Briar Moss, at the age of thirteen, had become one of the youngest accredited mages in Emelan.

Today was his eighteenth birthday, and he was relaxing on the roof of Discipline Cottage, having had Sandry and Evvy forbid him to work.

'_Pahan_ Briar,' Evvy called from the bottom of the stepladder that led up to the thatch. 'We're ready for you downstairs.'

'Coming,' Briar called down to her, getting up and climbing down the stepladder. Evvy grinned up at him from the small corridor of the cottage's upper floor. 'Hi, Evvy,' he said, seeing her.

'Happy birthday,_ Pahan_,' she said.

Briar grinned back at her, his stomach rumbling, and asked eagerly, 'Is there cake?'

Silence… So quiet… Death… Death… No… Not again… Not you too, Ron… You're my family, too… Not again… Please… Go… Just go… 

The abyss seemed to stretch onwards for an eternity. Dulled emeralds stared up from within it.

Briar sat at the table in Discipline Cottage, a large piece of cake on a plate in front of him.

Evvy laughed, joining him at the table, and he grinned at her. 'You ready for your next lesson, Evvy?' he asked, laughing inwardly as her face fell.

'You wouldn't, _Pahan_,' she said. 'We're supposed to be celebrating today.'

Briar out-right laughed at the horrified expression on her face as she said that. 'Your right,' he said, clutching a stitch that was building up in his side, 'I wouldn't.'

Her relief showed and, free of worries of work, she went over to talk to Sandry's student, Pasco.

_Briar?_ he heard h voice in his head, and recognised the familiar mental voice of Tris.

_Yeah,_ he said. _What's wrong?_

_I was just going to ask you if you knew,_ was the answer.

Briar mentally raised his eyebrows. –_Meaning…?_

_Something's up with Niko,_ she said

Briar looked over to where the older man sat, massaging his temples with his hands and leaning heavily on the other end of the table. _I don't know,_ he said. _Have you asked Sandry and Daja?_

_Yes,_ she replied. _They don't have any more of an idea than you or I do._

Briar mentally rolled his eyes. _Why don't you ask _him_ then?_

He could sense Tris glaring at him, and he saw her walk over to him and get his attention. They had a brief conversation before he left the room with Tris in tow.

Dark… So dark… I don't like the dark… Lumos… Lumos… Please… Don't leave me here… Lumos… Lumos solem…

A pale-as-death face looked out over the darkness, blood-red lips forming the words, 'Why isn't it working? …'

_Tris,_ Briar asked. _Where are you going?_

_Niko's going to show me what's bothering him,_ she said. _You, Sandry and Daja can look through my eyes if you want._

_Thanks._ Briar's vision instantly shifted, and he felt Sandry's and Daja's doing the same. Tris was crouched over a bowl of liquid. Briar inwardly groaned; she was trying to see a vision. The liquid in the bowl flickered with a small amount of magic.

A boy, about Briar's age, was crouched in a brightly lit alleyway that Briar recognised to be in the Summersea Market. His legs were tucked in close to his chest, and he scratched desperately at his right hand with his left. Briar could see faint scarring there, forming words that he couldn't decipher. His right hand clenched, as if holding an invisible sword, and he began muttering. 'Lumos… Lumos solem…' A weak flame flickered into life in his hand before spluttering out. The boy seemed distraught. 'Why isn't it working? …'

The vision ended, and Briar found himself seeing through his own eyes once more. _What does it mean?_ he asked Tris.

_That there is an untrained Mage out there,_ she said, _and we need to find him. At least you'll be getting your wish; it seems that there's going to be another boy in Discipline._

Briar grinned.

Alone… No one here… Gone… Dead… Dead… All my fault… Murderer… Hermione? … Ron? … Moony? … Padfoot? … Mum? … Dad? … Neville? … Ginny? … Luna? … Hello? … Murderer…

A choked sob. 'I'm sorry…'


	2. Chapter 2: The Dark Angel

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to Sanna for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank StarsLover, . . ., emikae, Hana and Jane silver for reviewing.

To Jane silver: Yes, this is a Harry/Briar. Don't you think that pairing's so CUTE? And I completely agree that there aren't enough Emelan-slash stories out there (other that Lark/Rosethorns, which are squicky). Don't you hate Briar being paired with the other girls; they're supposed to be his _sisters_.

To StarsLover: No, Harry's not going to be a Mage, but that won't stop Niko from thinking he is. As for the wandless magic, Harry's always been able to do that when he's very emotional, and Moony's taking for granted that Insane!Harry would be emotional most of the time. And you might have noticed that the spell didn't work properly; that's because, I assume, wandless magic is much more draining than other types of magic. And Harry was surprised that it didn't work because he thought he was using his wand (lol, I know you didn't actually ask about that).

To . . .: If you hate slash, then why are you reading this story? There was a clear slash warning at the beginning AND in the summary. And if you only opened this story so you could give me your views on slash-pairings, then you shouldn't have reviewed in the first place, 'cause there's noting I can do about your opinions, and you shouldn't critisise stories that you're not going to read.

And to get one thing straight, when you look at Harry's thoughts, the spells are said out loud; the rest is in his head.

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 2

Footsteps… They're coming… Death Eaters… No… Please… Don't hurt them again… It's me you want…

'Wha… name… ?' A voice, sweet like honey.

_Name? … I have many names… Freak… Murderer… Freak… Murderer…_

The next voice was raspy and dry. '… Harry…'

Briar, Tris, Sandry and Daja decided to take Pasco, Evvy and Keth to Summersea market the next morning. They met Sandry and Pasco there, as they both lived in the area, and then decided to search out the new Mage.

Briar and Evvy were searching behind the market stalls when Briar received a mind-call from Daja, who was searching with Sandry and Pasco.

_He's here,_ she said. Briar shifted his vision and saw the boy through Daja's eyes.

_Yes,_ he replied, _That's definitely him._

_I know that, thief-boy,_ Daja replied. _The only question is how to get him out of here._

Briar mentally shrugged. _Don't ask me, _he said, _I'll be there in a minute to help out._

_Thanks,_ Daja said. _We're in the alley behind the string-seller's stall._

Briar mentally nodded before breaking the connection and turning to Evvy.

'Let's go, Evvy,' he said. 'Daja and Sandry found him. We've got to help get him back to Discipline.'

_Dripping… Drip… Drip… Drip… Drip… Water… Blood… Death… Murderer… Freak… Murderer… More footsteps… More Death Eaters… No, Professor… Run… Run… Fly… Fly away… Before they hurt you again… Before they kill you again…_

'…id, we… ere… help you.' Another voice, one that sounded suspiciously like…

"_You didn't think we'd let you do this on your own, did you?"… Ron… Hermione… Dead… All dead… Murderer… Murderer… I killed my own best friends… Murderer…_

He drew in a shaky breath and drew his legs closer to his body. 'Fly… Fly away… They're coming back…'

Someone was trying to pick him up. He struggled. He was too weak.

"_Don't beat yourself up about it, mate. It wasn't your fault."… "Harry, you need to eat, or Madam Pomphrey'll be out for blood; ours."… Hogwarts was gone… Destroyed… Death… Destruction… Blood… Screaming… "Help us, Harry!"_

Briar felt the boy begin to struggle as he picked him up. He had been muttering at them to fly away. –_Doesn't he realise that people can't fly?_ Briar asked Sandry and Daja.

He could feel Daja's exasperation at his question. _When someone tells you to "fly", it nearly always means, "flee", thief-boy._

_Well, sorry,_ Briar said, sarcasm rolling off his mental voice. _But how was I supposed to know that?_

_Common sense, _Daja snapped back.

_Stop it, you two, _Sandry said. _And look where you're going, Briar. He looks sick enough without you dropping him._

Briar started. He had almost walked into a wall, he'd been so preoccupied with his argument with Daja. He didn't respond to Sandry's comment, but settled for looking sheepish instead.

They soon reached Evvy and Pasco, who'd been waiting for them by the string-seller's stall. Evvy straightened up and looked at the boy – Harry – in amazement. 'He's beautiful,' she whispered, completely in awe of the boy. 'Like an angel.'

The boy started muttering again, his eyes still firmly closed. '… A dark angel… whose wings were clipped at birth…'

Evvy jumped, having thought he was asleep. Briar looked at her in surprise; he had responded to her. Maybe there was hope for him, after all.

Angels… angels are good… pure… light… Me… I'm a freak… a dark angel… Mum was an angel… My guardian angel… Moony and Padfoot were my guiding stars… I'm not an angel… I'm… I'm…

A whisper. '… A dark angel… whose wings were clipped at birth…'

_She spoke in awe… Awe… Wonder… Awe… "That was bloody awesome, Professor."… Blood… Blood… Too much blood… Can't you smell it? … Can't you taste it? … Why aren't you running? …_


	3. Chapter 3: Healing

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to emikae for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Jane silver, Hana and riss for reviewing.

To riss: NO!!! I detest Harry/Snape. Sorry about that little outburst, but I'm glad you think I'd be good at it. And I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 3

Ron? … Come back… Please? … I'll never tease you again… I promise… Please come back…

'Please don't leave me…'

Briar entered Discipline Cottage and faced Niko, placing Harry carefully on the floor, where he continued to hold out his hand and mutter "Lumos".

Niko looked at Harry carefully. 'What is his name?' he asked. Briar looked at Daja; in all his haste, he'd forgotten to ask.

_His name is Harry_ Daja answered, and Briar opened his mouth and repeated this to the older man.

'Do you know what's wrong with him, Niko?' Tris asked suddenly.

Niko shook his head at his former student. 'I will have to call a healer in order to determine that,' he said. 'Briar, Rosethorn, will you watch him while I am gone?'

'Please don't leave me…' The interjection came from Harry, who seemed to have a better grip on reality than they thought.

Niko looked him in the eyes and said, 'I'll be right back.'

Briar and Rosethorn both nodded that they would watch him and Niko left the room quickly.

Briar sat down at the table with Rosethorn, Lark, Daja, Tris and Sandry, while Little Bear sniffed at Harry curiously. Little Bear's nose rubbed against Harry's arm and Briar heard Harry ask, in an adorably childish yet painfully sad voice, 'Padfoot? …'

Briar frowned in confusion. He moved and crouched down at Harry's side. 'What's Padfoot?' he asked.

Harry didn't answer.

Padfoot… Blood… Staining… Can't get it off… Please… There's blood on my hands… Your blood… Hermione's blood… Ron's blood… Ginny's blood… Luna's blood… Moony's blood… Neville's blood… Mum's blood… Dad's blood… Even Snape's blood… I feel dirty… Unclean… Help me… Please? …

A small, moist nose snuffled at his arm and a flame flickered into life somewhere over the abyss. 'Padfoot? …'

Niko, true to his word, returned to Discipline a few minutes later with a Healer-Mage in tow.

The Water Temple Dedicate knelt down next to Briar and asked if anything had happened since Niko had left.

'He asked for a "Padfoot",' Briar said, 'whatever that might be.'

The Healer's eyebrows rose dramatically in surprise. 'I believe,' she said, 'that the question is "who" rather than "what". Padfoot is one of the names of the dog that haunts graveyards. It is widely believed to be the Devil's earthly form, as well as an omen of death.'

Briar shuddered. 'Why is Harry calling out to it, then?' he asked.

The Healer shrugged. 'We will never know unless he tells us. Or until he trusts us.'

'Why until he trusts us?' Tris asked the Healer.

'There is a ritual that can be used to enter his mind. His very essence. But it can only be performed by someone who he trusts completely.'

Rosethorn, Lark and Niko snapped to attention. 'But that ritual is only performed as a possible cure for insanity,' Rosethorn protested. 'And it hardly ever works.'

The Healer matched Rosethorn's stare. 'It may not cure insanity completely, but it nearly always improves the situation,' she said. 'And the child is most definitely insane.'

Niko stepped up now. 'I know that you will certainly want to take him back to the infirmary now, but I ask that you leave him here. Discipline is better equipped to deal with an insane mage with unknown powers than any of the Water Temple infirmaries.'

The Healer sighed. 'Very well,' she said. 'I will leave him in your care. But a Healer will come by every day to check on him.'

'That won't be necessary,' Lark said. 'Rosethorn and Briar are both Healers of a sort. And it will be best for Harry if he doesn't have to deal with too many new people at once. Rosethorn, Niko an I all know the ritual you speak of, so we won't be needing any assistance in performing it.'

The Healer looked very put out, and she left Discipline huffily, leaving its occupants incredibly worried for the newest addition to their numbers.

Light… Please… I don't like the dark… Make it lighter… Lumos… Lumos… Lumos solem… Lumos…

Nothing happened.

After a short discussion, Briar found himself responsible for looking after Harry at night. The reasons that he had given as to why it should be his responsibility rather than anyone else's were as follows: 1. Briar and Keth were the only other males who lived at Discipline.

2. Briar seemed to be quite close to Harry in age, so it would be easier for him to adjust to the situation.

3. He was, as Lark had said, a Healer.

4. Briar, as a former street rat, was used to waking up at odd times in the night.

And 5. Harry seemed to enjoy the company of Little Bear, who usually slept in Briar's room.

The five points had been acknowledged duly, and the overall decision had received very little protest. Of course, the one point that Briar hadn't raised, was that the slight, emerald-eyed boy seemed to be bringing out his rusty and rarely-used paternal instincts.

He wondered what had happened to make Harry this way. It must have been something awful. Briar himself was no stranger to pain and suffering, having lost his mother at the age of four and, form then on, had to survive on the streets, but he had never even been close to insanity.

He picked Harry up, sighing quietly, carried him into their now-shared bedroom and lay him down on the cot that had been set up for him.

Moony? … Ron? … Padfoot? … Mum? … Dad? … Hermione? … Luna? … Neville? … Ginny? … Hagrid? … Hello? … Why did you leave me? …

As always, there was no answer.


	4. Chapter 4: Dementors

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to Hana for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Sandra Cloudpole, HPfreakout and Elemental-sorcerer for reviewing.

To Sandra Cloudpole (aka riss): Um… I didn't really understand that question. Do you mean is the fact that they think Harry knows what's going on going to be relevant to the rest of the story? If so, then I'm not really sure. If not, then could you clarify what you do mean? And in response to your last review: NO WAY!!! Sorry, but I'm not a big fan of Harry/Draco pairings, and, in my opinion, Draco's nothing more than a greasy git and Harry doesn't fancy him. Um… I haven't really thought about them making mistakes about the identity of the people in Harry's thoughts yet, unless you count the Padfoot thing in the last chappie. I dunno; maybe.

Hem-hem… All the quotes from the books are from memory, so sorry if they're inaccurate.

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 4

A rattling breath… Cold… Dementors… "Lily, take Harry and run. I'll hold him off"… "Please, have mercy"… Screaming… Expecto patronum… Expecto patronum… Expecto… Expecto…

The frail frame of the boy shivered and cried.

Briar woke early the next morning to Rosethorn's shouts. He was clearly needed in the garden.

He moaned and got out of his "nest", before stumbling into the kitchen for a quick bite to eat and then going out into the garden.

Rosethorn frowned at him in a disapproving manner. 'What _are_ you wearing, boy?' she asked.

Briar looked down and flushed, realising that he hadn't bothered to change out of his pajamas before coming out.

Rosethorn rolled her eyes. 'Go inside and get yourself changed,' she said and then called after his retreating back, 'And don't dawdle!'

Briar did as he was told, having no wish to be on the receiving end of Rosethorn's temper when he was still half-asleep, and was soon outside again, pulling weeds.

Weeding and boredom was all that entered his thoughts until he heard a shriek from inside.

He jerked his head up and turned to look behind him in shock. A tremor of panic came towards him down his connection to Sandry.

Rosethorn came towards him briskly. 'What's the problem, boy?' she asked.

Briar looked up at her from where he knelt next to the flowerbed. 'I don't know, but something scared Sandry.'

Rosethorn clicked her tongue in annoyance and rolled her eyes. 'Go and see then,' she said. 'I'm not stopping you.'

Briar nodded and ran to join Sandry inside.

_The caress of a dead hand… Mist… Ice… Freezing… Everything's frozen… Expecto… Expecto… Expecto Patronum… "You can do better than that"… Laughter… Echoing… "She killed Sirius! I'll kill her!"…_

A silver mist came and went, as silent as the night.

Sandry was backed up against the wall in the kitchen when Briar burst in, shortly followed by Tris and Daja, who had come from their duties to see what was wrong.

At first, Briar didn't see what was wrong, but after hearing Daja's intake of breath, he followed her eyes and saw a silver mist, slowly taking form. He took a moment to process the fact that it was seeping out from under his bedroom door.

He stared in astonishment as the mist died, then came again, this time stronger and with the form inside clearer. It was some kind of animal; one with hooves. A deer, perhaps.

'Stag…' Evvy whispered, approaching the creature from where she had been sitting on the stairs and gently reaching out to touch it. 'He's beautiful.'

And indeed he was, but as Evvy's hand touched him, he diminished, once again becoming a mist. And, this time, the mist didn't return.

'Harry,' Briar said once the stag had gone, moving towards his bedroom, hoping to speak with the boy who had accidentally summoned the mist.

Harry was sitting up against the wall, hugging himself and shivering. His face was moist with sweat.

Briar sighed and crouched down by his side, reaching out and placing his hand gently on the smaller boy's cheek, before automatically withdrawing slightly when he recoiled at the touch.

'… Expecto… Expecto…' Harry said, his voice quiet and fearful.

''Sokay,'' Briar said, putting his arms around his charge. 'No need to be scared anymore. I've got you…'

"Not going to let them hurt you anymore, Harry"… Ron? … Hermione? … I'm sorry… "No one hurts my friends and gets away with it"… Neville? … Luna? … Ginny? … I didn't mean to hurt you… I didn't mean to kill you…

He choked out a sob as he curled into his friends' embrace.


	5. Chapter 5: Nightmares of the Dead

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to HPfreakout for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Ack, Hana, riss and Freewriter77 for reviewing.

To riss: I still don't have a clue what you're on about. What's a mescreet? Umm, yes, they do eventually figure out what Harry's little speeches mean; that's either going to be in some far-off chapter or in chapter 6.

And, as for the language in the second Briar-section in this chapter, Miss Moony wrote it just after she finished reading "The Fellowship of the Ring", so it's a little fancy. Sorry if I've used any words you don't know, but, from what I can tell, all my reviewers are intelligent people, so there shouldn't be too much of a problem.

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 5

Warm… so warm… Padfoot… Moony… I'm sorry… I love you… Didn't mean to hurt you… I swear…

Harry shifted uncomfortably as the source of warmth left him. 'It was an accident…'

Briar jumped when Tris' voice interrupted his thoughts. He twisted his head round and glared at her. Her response was a raised eyebrow.

'You _so_ fancy him,' she stated.

Briar's eyes widened comically. 'Do not,' he snapped.

By now, Tris had a "yeah, right" expression on her face. 'Then what do you call that?'

She gestured in Harry's direction, and he looked to see that he had unintentionally been running his hands through Harry's hair.

He removed his hands quickly and scooted away from the boy, making him shift uncomfortably.

'Fatherly instincts,' he said briskly, narrowing his eyes and silently daring her to disagree.

She was still wearing that same expression on her face when she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, 'Whatever you say, thief-boy.'

Briar was just about to retort when his attention was caught by Harry's voice. 'It was an accident…'

Both Briar and Tris snapped to attention. 'What was an accident?' Briar asked.

Harry began muttering and they had to strain their ears to hear him. 'Dead…' he said, '… All dead… I'm sorry…'

Briar's face was pale, but it was Tris who voiced his thoughts. _I wonder what happened to him._

_Ron… Hermione… Luna… Neville… Ginny… Moony… Padfoot… Hagrid… Mum… Dad… Don't leave me… Please… Gone…_

'…Dead… All dead…' he gasped out. '… I'm sorry…'

The next morning, Briar watched as Tris and Daja whispered together at the kitchen table.

He could guess what they were talking about from their expressions; Tris' gleeful, Daja's amused.

They were talking about _him._ About him and Harry and his supposed "_crush_".

Briar scowled and scooped up an extra bowl of porridge before retreating to his room to give Harry his breakfast. If Harry was anything like Briar, then he would be hungry. _Very_ hungry.

When he entered the room, Harry was asleep. Having been awake through the whole of the night before, lost in his nightmares, he had finally succumbed to sleep only an hour before, and Briar was loathed to wake him so soon.

As it happened, he didn't need to. After only a few moments of standing by the doorway, Harry started tossing and turning in his sleep and screaming, and within the span of a few seconds, he was awake. Though the screaming didn't stop.

He sat bolt upright, his eyes still screwed closed, and Briar hardly registered the sound of the porridge bowl smashing as he dropped it in his haste to get to the smaller boy's side.

It was not long before the others came running, and when they did, Harry could be seen, and heard, screaming into Briar's shirt as calming words were whispered into his ear, to no effect.

'Ssh,' Briar hissed soothingly. 'It was only a dream… just a dream…'

He looked to where the others were crowded in the doorway and shot them a glare, clearly telling them to scarper if they valued their lives, while he repeated the words over and over in Harry's ear.

The others fled, and, at length, Harry began to calm down, but he didn't release his hold on Briar's shirt until he said, 'You'll have to let go, Harry. I need to fetch another bowl of porridge.'

Briar stood up quietly and lay Harry down amidst the sheets of Briar's "nest" (as there hadn't yet been time to put up another bed in the room, they had been sharing) before leaving the room.

When he returned with his prize, a full bowl of porridge, Briar made his way over to Harry's side and helped the boy sit up, spooning the food into his mouth in small portions.

And, eventually, Harry's eyelids loosened, and began to open, allowing Briar to see the boy's eyes for the first time. They were emerald green and bore all the intensity of one who had suffered long, and, as Briar stared into them, he found himself falling… and seeing…

_Screaming… Shouting… The crimson glint of a bloody sword as a decapitated head smashed against the wall… The creaking of a rope as a corpse hung from its wrists from the roof… The hissing of burning flesh in a small, dusty room as a silver hand was shoved into a man's face… Screaming… Screaming… Echoes… Never stopping… Never ceasing…_

And they tore at his throat as he felt their pain.


	6. Chapter 6: Reality

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to ficfan for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Jessi Malfoy, Hana, Jane Silver and EvilAngel and Sandra Cloudpole (three times) for reviewing.

To Jane Silver: Actually, Harry did tell Briar his name, or rather, he told Daja and Tris, and they told Briar; that was in one of the "Harry" sections. And Harry is awake most of the time, he just hasn't opened his eyes. Sorry if I didn't make that clear.

To Hana: Wait and see.

To riss: You never cease to confuse me; "kyu"? What's that mean. And thanks for the explanation.

To EvilAngel: I was thinking about doing something like that, but I'm not quite sure what it'd be about, so, if at all, it won't be coming anytime soon.

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 6

Green… Grey… Mist… Fog… Cloud… Mountains… Caves… Padfoot… Sirius… "He must really like you, Harry. Imagine having to live off rats."… Pain…

The sunlight glinted in green-grey eyes, sparkling with life, and images of dead grey ones filled his head.

Briar found himself surrounded by darkness. A shrill scream pierced the air and he shuddered. He heard dripping water and, peering around cautiously, discovered that he was standing on a pier.

Dark, pearly water lapped against the dock in a sinister manner and, leaning closer, Briar was sure he could see faces in the water. They were pale shadows, like ghosts.

Suddenly, a large waved roared into life and crashed over the pier, bringing sounds and images with it.

… A red-haired, green-eyed woman screamed, clutching a small child in her arms…

… A blonde teenager smiled, her eyes bugging out slightly, and said, "We're coming with you, Harry."…

Briar realised with a jolt that he had somehow entered Harry's mind; not his soul, but his very essence. These were Harry's memories.

… "Come on, mate. Gin and Luna have something planned for breakfast. Don't want to miss it, do you?"…

… A face, scaled and predatory, smiled maliciously, "Prepare to die, Potter."…

… The same face, leveling a short stick at his chest. "And now you face me like a man… Straight-backed and proud, the way your father died."…

'Harry… Harry…' he said fearfully.

Briar backed up, wide-eyed, only to find himself trapped. Four translucent green barriers in Harry's mind had sprung up around him, and he was surrounded by haunting memories that weren't his own.

'Briar… Briar…' Someone was calling him. He felt a hand cuff his head, and he woke from his stupor.

He could feel something inside his head… something that didn't belong to him… or Voldemort…

Harry… Harry… It called out to him. And he closed it off in mental barriers without a second thought.

'What happened?' Rosethorn asked Briar.

He looked between her and Harry in shock before saying shakily, 'I… I'm not quite sure.'

Rosethorn raised an eyebrow.

'I… I mean… he just opened his eyes… and then… I was inside his head,' Briar said. 'I don't know how or why… I just… was…'

He trailed off rather pathetically and looked back at Harry. 'Alright, I'm coming,' he said eventually, preparing to leave the room.

That was, before Harry's eyes started to focus and he squinted blearily and asked, almost fearfully, 'Who are you?'

Briar and Rosethorn looked at him in shock. Rosethorn, however, seeing him squinting, reached for the pair of spectacles that were lying on top of a stack of parchment on the floor.

'Here,' she said, placing them on Harry's face and receiving a weary 'thank-you' in reply.

Briar finally managed to stop gaping at Harry's sudden grasp on reality and he answered the question. 'I'm Briar Moss, Green Mage, and this is my teacher, Dedicate Rosethorn of Winding Circle Temple.'

Harry blinked. 'Excuse me if I sound impertinent, but where exactly is Winding Circle Temple and what's a Green Mage?'

Briar's astonishment clearly showed in his expression, because Harry bit his lip. Rosethorn, however, seemed to be taking this much more calmly.

'Winding Circle is where you are now. At Discipline Cottage in the Temple City, in Emelan… near Summersea, if you want to be precise. And a Green Mage is an ambient Mage whose powers relate to plants, Harry,' she said.

Harry nodded, before asking hesitantly, 'Like- like Neville?'

Rosethorn frowned. 'I might actually be able to answer that if you'll tell me who Neville is.'

Harry looked vaguely surprised. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I just assumed that – well, since you obviously know who I am without me having to tell you – and, well, most of the people who know who I am know who my friends are, too… even though I've never hear of Emelan or Winding Circle… And – I don't know what Mages are, exactly – but you obviously have some kind of magic.'

'You don't know what a Mage is?' Briar asked in disbelief, just as Rosethorn asked, 'You've never heard of Emelan?'

Harry chewed on his lip anxiously, thinking, before opting for a fairly safe, 'Should I?'

Rosethorn just shook her head in defeat. 'Come on out, then – both of you – and you can help Briar and me with the weeding. I'll introduce you to the others when Sandry and Pasco drop by for dinner.'

Harry nodded and got to his feet unsteadily, and Briar followed suit.

Harry wasn't quite sure what had happened. All he could remember was seeing the once-malevolent crimson eyes of Lord Voldemort boring into his own ones in shock as the life drained from them and after that there had just been darkness…

He supposed that the backlash from the spell he'd used must have blasted a hole in the time-space continuum, splintering his wand in the process and blasting him through, as he couldn't remember ever hearing that there were any Temple Cities still standing… And, if he wasn't mistaken, "Mage" was one of the old names for a wizard. He hadn't, however, ever heard anything about wizards whose powers related to only one element of the world.

He sighed, following the taller boy – whose voice reminded him of Ron – Briar – into the garden.


	7. Chapter 7: Drowning in Green Mist

Sorry for not updating sooner. First writer's block, then all the uploading problems, and _then_ there was two weeks of mocks to deal with, plus bad results to relay back to parents (woe is me).

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to keira for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Elemental-sorceror, riss (three times), Xessive, keira, insanechildfanfic, Marbelz, Hana, Me and walker-of-the-shadow-path for reviewing.

To riss: Pearly dark… hmm… it's like when there's water that's so dark it looks almost black, but there's a kind of glow as well… or like when there's splatters of light reflected on the surface, but they won't stay still… is that a good enough explanation? No, I don't think I've heard the song, but I might have forgotten it. Keep reading!

And I really do apologise for this… I know I have a weird obsessive streak when it comes to eyes… but I really do think that both Briar and Harry have _gorgeous _eyes.

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 7

Harry was not particularly pleased when he was informed that he would have to see a Healer before he was allowed to wander further than the gate of Discipline Cottage. But, since these people knew nothing of Harry's previous experiences with Healers – especially one Poppy Pomfrey - belief of his inability to do _anything_, they couldn't really be expected to understand his unease.

He had been officially introduced to his "housemates" shortly after a tongue-lashing from both the boy and his teacher on the intricacies of weeding… To be honest, he hadn't known there _were_ any. The boy's name was Briar (isn't that a _girl's_ name?) and the two adults-in-residence were called Lark and Rosethorn. There was also a boy called Comas, who was very shy and didn't say a single word to Harry and Harry thought he might like Comas best of everyone there, a _delightful_ girl named Evu-something (note the sarcasm), or Evvy for short, an older boy – man, really – called Keth, a currently-dormant-volcano called Tris, a middle-aged man called Niko, who was apparently supposed to be quite powerful, but Harry thought that he probably wasn't as powerful as Dumbledore, and a little girl called Glaki who was almost as shy as Comas. There were also, apparently, friends and residents who were not currently present; a Trader (people who trade things have their own _race_ here?) girl called Daja, her teacher Frostpine, a future-Duchess called Sandry, who was one of Lark's students, and a boy called Pasco.

Harry was reminded briefly of the Marauders when he noticed that most of the adults seemed to have nicknames. Then when they were eating, Rosethorn told Evvy to mind her manners, and Harry remembered how Mrs. Weasley always used to try to keep Fred and George in line with her motherly dominance. And after dinner, when Harry sat in a corner on his own and just observed everyone, he saw Tris with her nose in a book, and he couldn't help wondering if she and Hermione had read any of the same books.

And, by the end of the evening, when Harry discovered that he'd been sharing a bed with Briar for the whole time he'd been here, and would probably have to continue with the arrangements, at least until someone had the time to find a cot (why would Harry want to sleep in a _cradle_? he thought), Harry's head was so full of thoughts of his dead friends that he didn't even bother to complain.

'Are you okay?' was the first real sign of acknowledgement of his existence, other than the brief introductions, from Briar, as they lay in Briar's "nest" together. 'You've been awfully quiet.'

Harry gave a half-hearted shrug and mumbled, 'Homesick,' into his knees as he curled up tighter.

'Want to talk about it?' Briar asked.

'Not really,' Harry snorted, even though he thought that Briar was only trying to be friendly. 'Neither would you if you'd come to think of "home" as the most terrifying place in existence.'

Briar didn't seem very impressed with that response. 'How d'you know I haven't?'

Harry didn't respond immediately, and when he did it was in the quiet, careful tone that he always used when he wasn't sure of the loyalties of his company. 'There's something I can see in your eyes… and everyone else here's, too… something less – I dunno – _world-weary_, I guess.'

But Harry still didn't raise his head to look at Briar as he spoke… too risky… he didn't want to start drowning in the older boy's eyes again. Those eyes that were beautiful and captivating with their amazing ability to be two colours at once… that dark, dark green colour that was almost hidden by the pale, misty surface… mist… mist that was so much warmer and brighter than the last mist he'd seen.

Rattling breath… Cold… Cold… So cold… Ice… Frozen… Dementors… Screaming… Please don't leave me again…

Briar spent the morning frowning. It seemed that Harry could be perfectly friendly when it suited him, but that didn't change the fact that it rarely _did_ seem to suit him. Briar was vaguely reminded of the way Tris had been when she'd first arrived at Discipline.

Another thing that he'd noticed was Harry's preference for being alone. He reminded Briar of Comas in that respect, except that Harry's choice didn't seem to be out of shyness or fear, but because of a severe lack of trust.

However, Briar sensed that there was a very big mystery surrounding Harry, and it was more than just how he'd come to be insane, and that he'd never heard of Emelan. It was more because of the endless pools of _darkness_ that Briar could sometimes feel around the boy, a cold, unforgiving sadness that seemed to linger in the air even after Harry had left the room. Briar thought that it was slightly suffocating, and wondered what had caused it.

'Harry,' he asked when they were weeding together, 'what happened to you?'

Harry was silent and, as he had been doing since his surprise recovery, he refused to meet Briar's eyes.

Briar looked at him curiously, noting the way he seemed to be weeding as if by habit, rather than actually paying attention to the work. 'Harry?' he prompted.

Harry muttered an answer, almost too quietly for Briar to hear.

'I died,' he said before the Hub bell sounded for lunch, when he went inside, leaving Briar alone to ponder the meaning of his cryptic words.


	8. Chapter 8: Eyes of the Innocent

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to Alexia for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Maya, kayly silverstorm, Marblez and Jessi Malfoy for reviewing.

To Jessi Malfoy: I giggled quite hard when I read that, for no particular reason other than that I'd just spent the last half hour on the slash forum at FA. More seriously, though, the Harry/Briar slash won't be here for quite a while, though you will get to see quite a lot more development. First, though, there's going to be the whole "what happened to Harry" thingy, including a re-telling of his sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts, and quite a few past relationships (you'll see more slash there!!).

To Maya: It's a _crossover._ _That_ is why it's in the TP section. It's just that it's much more likely to be _found_ in a section where fics aren't pouring in left right and centre.

To Marblez: See above. Sorry!

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 8

Luncheon was a disastrous affair. The whole table was surrounded by a stifling silence, broken only by the occasional request for the passing of one dish or another.

Briar watched as Harry sat by the side, his lips tightly sealed, and ate little, even as Briar dug into the food piled up on his own plate.

'So,' he heard Rosethorn say, clearly trying to think of a topic of conversation that might draw the younger boy out of his shell.

'What's your favourite flower, kid?' Briar asked, coming to the rescue.

He was almost surprised when Harry's eyes flickered up to meet his, and he saw, once again, the pain reflected in them, and it seemed like an eternity before he received an answer. 'Lupin… Lily… Lupin… Lily…' It was very quietly muttered, but Briar heard it loud and clear anyway, and winced when he saw an empty shine begin to rise in Harry's eyes again, before it backed down and was replaced by that painfully vulnerable look.

'Oh,' Rosethorn said in surprise. 'I've always liked roses best myself.'

'Figures,' Briar heard Harry mutter in response, but he doubted that anyone else did.

'Why lupines and lilies?' Tris asked, breaking the silence that had threatened to fall once again. Briar had the distinct feeling that she was trying not to let her impatience show through where Harry was concerned, probably for the sake of the boy's mental state.

Harry twisted around in his seat to face her, and answered, 'My mum was called Lily, and Lupin was the name of my favourite professor.'

'Oh.' It was a simple statement, and it came from Tris, and, that said, the room was plunged into silence once again.

The eight-year-old Glaki approached Harry after lunch, when he was sitting outside on the grass, and flopped down beside him.

'What's it like where you come from?' she asked, making Harry jump, having not realised she was there.

'Hell, actually. Why d'you ask?' He wondered briefly why he was bothering to talk to her. After all, it wasn't as if he'd said much to anyone else.

'Just wondering,' she answered. 'I come from Khapik – that's in Tharios. Tris brought me 'n' Keth here after Mama was murdered, though. What was your ma like?'

_What is this? _Harry thought, _Twenty questions?_ 'I can't remember,' he told her.

'What happened?' Glaki's eyes were wide and curious.

'She died when I was a baby.'

There was a brief silence, but it stretched out for what seemed, to Harry, like an eternity, until Glaki asked, 'You're an orphan, too?'

Harry nodded, but didn't speak.

'Tris says that you're mad.'

"_You're mad. You're all bloody insane."… Ron… Don't leave me… Please? …_

'She's right,' Harry answered. 'I am mad.'

'Why?'

Harry thought for a moment before replying. 'Too much death… too much destruction. I suppose insanity was my way to escape.'

Glaki nodded thoughtfully, showing an unusual amount of understanding for someone so young. They were silent for a moment more, and then she reached over and hugged Harry.

'Don't worry,' she said, seemingly reading his mind, 'I won't tell.'


	9. Chapter 9: Trials of the Past

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to Hana for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank kayly silverstorm, Sandra Cloudpole, Prongsblacks, Marblez and Firehedgehog for reviewing.

To Hana: NO! Harry/Ron? What gave you that idea? Nonononononononono… that's _all_ wrong.

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 9

There were very few people at Discipline cottage that afternoon. According to Glaki, who'd appointed herself as Harry's shadow, Daja had gone to work at the forge, Niko, Tris and Keth had gone to the Wall to examine the approaching storm, and Comas and Evvy had been sent to the Hub to get more supplies from Dedicate Gorse, who in charge of the kitchens. In fact, at present, the only occupants were Briar and Rosethorn, in the garden, Lark, working quietly at her loom, and Harry and Glaki… as well as the dog, Little Bear, who wasn't at all little.

'Can I show you something?'

Harry's attention returned to the eight-year-old who was currently tugging on his sleeve. 'Sure,' he said, with much less hostility than he would have used had it been anyone but her.

Glaki led the way towards the room where she and Tris slept, and Harry blanched slightly. From what he'd heard, the red-head had a temper that could rival the tantrums that Ginny had often thrown in her fifth year, Harry's sixth, which had been, at the least, scary, and at worst, petrifying.

'Come on,' Glaki said, noticing his hesitation and tugging on his sleeve once again. 'She won't bite.'

'Would this "she" be Tris?' he asked. 'Or someone else?'

Glaki let out a tiny bubble of laughter, and replied, 'Oh, this "she" is someone _completely_ different.'

This statement wasn't at all comforting, as there was still the nagging worry about what Tris might say if she discovered that he'd entered her room, but he entered after Glaki anyway. There was a reason that he was placed in Gryffindor; he had more courage than sense.

The room was quite small, as were all the rooms at Discipline. There was a bed near the window with a trunk at its foot and a small side table near its head, and there was another along the wall adjacent to it, near the door. A small desk was placed in one corner, a large, neat pile of books on its surface, as well as a small stack of parchments.

'This is Chime.'

Harry's head snapped around in surprise. He had completely forgotten about the younger girl during his scrutiny of his surroundings, but she was still there.

Glaki didn't notice his surprise. She was crouched on the floor and facing away from him, focusing all her attention on the nest of blankets in front of her.

Harry moved over quickly and silently, and crouched down beside her. There was a delicate-looking glass dragon huddled in the nest, and Harry briefly wondered if she was an ornament, until he saw her move. Of course, toys and ornaments moved in the Wizarding World, but he had seen too much evidence to the contrary to believe that the same was true of this one.

'She's beautiful,' he murmured, gazing at the dragon with no small amount of wonder.

'Keth made her,' Glaki said, and Harry's eyes widened in surprise until she continued. 'It was an accident, really. He didn't even know he was a Mage at the time, and he was convinced that Tris had played some kind of trick on him. Tris' been looking after her ever since. Isn't she _amazing_, though? _Living glass._'

'Yeah,' Harry said quietly. 'Amazing.'

_A burst of flame, the flick of a tail, the tearing of skin, stinging pain, blood, so much blood, and then blessed numbness… _

-------

When Briar came in from the garden, his day of weeding complete, he was surprised to see Harry and Glaki conversing quietly in the kitchen, Chime perched on Glaki's shoulder. Actually, surprised would probably be an understatement.

Harry didn't talk much, Briar knew from experience, and it was a rare occurrence that he'd give a straight answer to any question he happened to be asked. Therefore, how Glaki had managed to draw him into a conversation was a complete mystery to Briar.

However, now that Harry was talking, Briar wasn't going to discourage any form of communication he might indulge in. Neither participants seemed to have noticed his presence, though he was sure that Harry usually would have noticed, so he just stood there and listened, and shushed Rosethorn when she came in after him.

'Well, there was Ron,' Harry was saying, 'Ron Weasley. He was my best mate. We met when we were eleven. There was Hermione, too. She was his fiancée, but she was a good friend of mine long before that. She was kind of bookish; a bit like Tris, really. Always wanting to learn. Then there was Neville. He was one of my dorm-mates, and he was going to start training to be a Herbologist when he finished his studies. Ron's little sister, Ginny, was another one, and then there was Luna. Luna Lovegood…' he paused before beginning again, '… and… and…'

He cut off abruptly, raising his head, and Briar knew that he and Rosethorn had been noticed. Harry's eyes gained that glassed-over look that seemed to come whenever he was on his guard… which was most of the time.

Glaki, it seemed, also noticed the change in his demuaner, and she spun around to face them.

Briar smiled, but it was Rosethorn who spoke. 'We're not interrupting anything, are we?'

'Not at all,' Glaki answered cheerily, but they didn't resume their little chat, and for the rest of the evening, Briar could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickling from Harry's stare, and he knew that the younger boy was aware of the fact that Briar had heard every word he'd said.


	10. Chapter 10: Blaise Zabini

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to Elemental-sorceror for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Prongsblacks, Jessi Malfoy, kayly silverstorm and Sandra Cloudpole for reviewing.

To kayly silverstorm: "We are not amused". Well, actually, we are. Very much so, to be honest. By your manipulative use of Ron-quotes. All hail Ron! (Sorry 'bout that.)

- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -

Chapter 10

Harry had known since fifth year that he was a_ disaster_ when it came to relationships. There hadn't been many of them while he was at school, but they'd all had messy endings, and most had even been hell before.

There had, of course, been that disastrous relationship with Cho Chang in fifth year, ending over a severe difference in opinion and Cho's inability to talk about anything – or any_one_ – but Cedric Diggory, despite the fact that she _knew_ it made Harry uncomfortable. Then there'd been a few dates with Luna, ending with a mutual decision that they were better as friends than lovers. And, after that there'd been… there'd been Blaise.

Blaise Zabini… who was passionate and loving and _completely_ misunderstood. Blaise Zabini, who hadn't even passed through Harry's mind in _months_. But now the memories were coming back, as if somewhere in Harry's subconscious, someone had been pressing a rewind button, and now the tape was back on play.

"Slytherin is the house of the ambitious, Potter, didn't you know? Not the house of the evil. I'm ambitious: I'd have to be, to go after you."

_Laughter… "I'm not giving up that easily, Potter. Just because you're with Lovegood now, it doesn't mean you've got rid of me."_

"_Has anyone ever told you that you're cute when you're angry? It makes your eyes light up… Stay angry, Potter. Sometimes I think that's the only time I can feel sure that you still care."_

"_They'll kill me, you know. Before I was just neutral, but this is open defiance. They'll have my head for betraying their Lord."_

Blaise Zabini, who had been the only person that Harry could have seen himself spending the rest of his life with… fighting together, and growing old together.

"If I don't come back, remember that I love you."

"_I'm under Professor Dumbledore's protection; and yours, too. The price on my head is five-hundred Galleons now, but it'll keep going up."_

"_Parkinson? She's my cousin… unfortunately. Why d'you ask?"_

"_We're all at risk, Harry. Granted, they have more motivation to kill me, but I'm really at no more risk than any of your friends on the battlefield."_

And then he'd died, and Harry's world had shattered with him. He could still picture the moment he'd found him in his head. He'd just been lying there, and he looked more asleep than dead, and somewhere in his subconscious, Harry had remembered to be glad that his killer hadn't _really_ wanted to have his head.

Blaise Zabini… who Harry had thought was his soul mate… but now Briar knew, and Harry didn't know why, but the thought that the older boy would blame him for what had happened hurt almost as much as all those endings put together.

-

That Harry was tight-lipped was taken for granted. He didn't talk, except in riddles, and Briar didn't get any answers.

Maybe he felt a little guilty about the conversation he'd overheard between Harry and Glaki, as he'd known it was private, but had listened anyway, and it was clear by now that the younger boy had found some shadow of friendship in the eight-year-old.

They'd been spotted many times, when Harry wasn't helping Briar and Rosethorn with the weeding, and Glaki wasn't in her lessons with Tris, just talking amongst themselves, and Glaki had taken to sitting on his lap during their evening relaxation sessions, much to the surprise of both Tris and Keth.

Chime, too, also seemed to have taken a liking to the quiet boy with the haunted eyes, and she could often be seen curled around his neck in almost serpentine grace.

However, it was Glaki, more than Chime, that surprised Briar that Starsday afternoon:

The sun was shining brightly, and the kitchen was overwhelmingly hot, so Rosethorn had reluctantly agreed to let them take luncheon in the garden. Evvy and Glaki were playing some kind of game while Briar watched Harry, who'd been sitting apart from him, Daja, Tris, Lark, Rosethorn, Comas and Keth.

It wasn't long before Evvy and Glaki had both hurt themselves. Glaki had tripped and fallen on the gravel path, and Evvy, who'd been chasing her, had tripped _over_ the younger girl.

It took Briar a moment to notice the disturbance, and even then, it was only because Harry had leaped to his feet and run across the garden to see if Glaki was okay. Briar followed suit, and, as a result, was there to witness what happened next.

Once Evvy had been pulled to her feet and deemed unharmed except for a twisted ankle, Harry pulled Glaki into a sitting position, and Briar winced at the sight of the large bleeding gash on her knee.

'Does it hurt much?' Harry asked, concern evident in his voice.

Glaki nodded, holding in tears.

There were a few pieces of gravel embedded in the cut, which Harry cleaned out gently, ignoring Glaki's small winces.

'I'll get a healing salve,' Briar said, trying to be helpful. 'We just made a new batch last Earthsday.'

Harry shook his head, and placed two fingers to the cut, being careful not to hurt the younger girl. He frowned, as if he was concentrating hard on something, and then muttered something unintelligible.

Briar watched in amazement as a blue shimmer leaped from Harry's fingers to the cut, and it quickly sealed itself, leaving nothing more that a tiny scar and a few faint traces of dried blood.

Glaki leaned forwards and gave Harry a brief kiss on the cheek. 'One day,' she declared, sounding much younger than usual, 'I'm going to marry you.'

Harry met her eyes in obvious amusement. 'We'll see,' he said.


	11. Chapter 11: Black Panther, White Mouse

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to queen of the lake for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Bookworm, fearthewrathofra, pixy, Fierhedgehog, Elemental-sorceror, Goddess Bless, Angus Dei and Jane Silver for reviewing.

To fearthewrathofra: Umm… I'm not exactly sure what to say to that, except thanks. I'm touched that you like the fic so much – truly.

To Jane Silver: But he has. Harry's magic can do all that and more (well, maybe not to quite such an extent), which is what makes it so interesting. Anyhow, I've already got most of the story written, and the Circle characters' magic doesn't play much of a part (yet?); I'm trying, I promise. Don't hurt me?

To queen of the lake: Wow. I didn't like that chapter at all; it was written on writer's block, and I couldn't get it to flow properly. Thanks!

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 11

Harry had always been more adept at wandless magic than most of the population of the Wizarding World; after all, he'd learned from the best, Albus Dumbledore. However, even he was not immune to its draining effect.

It really was a pity, he decided, that his wand had not survived the journey. And that there were no convenient phoenix feathers or wand-wood trees anywhere nearby.

'Harry?' He opened his eyes to see Daja in the doorway to his and Briar's room, which was surprising, because Briar and Glaki were usually the only ones who dared approach him when he had his closed: that had been a hard-learned lesson for Tris, who had been on the receiving end of his _petrificus totalus_.

'Luncheon,' she said simply at his enquiring look. He nodded and pulled himself to his feet, idly fingering the trunk-shaped pendant on the chain around his neck.

'What's in that thing?' Briar had asked during the one time he'd seen in unshrunk. Harry had shot him a scathing look and replied that it was none of his business.

Of course, that had only been because he'd heard the story of how Niko had confiscated Briar's knives, and he didn't want his own weapons to receive the same treatment… Or any of his other possessions that would be considered "dangerous" in the hands of someone as mentally unstable as he was.

He silently ran over the inventory as he followed Daja to the kitchen: Throwing knives, daggers, various poisons and antidotes, healing potions, wand (no, not wand), photo album, invisibility cloak, spell books, battle robes, underwear, penseive with fake memories, etc, etc…

'What?' he asked after lunch, when the whole table stared at him with a strange combination of apprehension and expectancy.

There was silence for a moment, then Tris spoke up. 'We're going to the baths,' she said, 'and you're coming with us.'

Harry stiffened, but really, he knew that he was beginning to smell, so he couldn't really complain, and when they left ten minutes later, Harry went right along with them.

-------

Briar watched in amusement as Harry's face turned a shocking shade of pink.

'Communal baths?' Harry managed to squeak out in horror, and Briar was forced to hide a smile.

'Communal baths,' Niko replied, rather snappishly, and looking at Harry with no small amount of irritation.

Harry nodded, gulping, and joined in as Briar, Niko, Keth and Comas undressed.

He slipped into the water only a few moments later, still dressed in his underwear, and Briar only had to look at him – wide-eyed – to realise why he had been so dismayed at the idea of sharing a bath.

They hadn't given him a bath before he "woke up", or even attempted to undress him, for fear of how he would react, and afterwards, he'd always changed while Briar was out of the room. Consequentially, this was the first chance that he'd had to see the markings that covered the younger boy's body.

Scars littered most of his skin, and there was a large burn mark covering the flesh from just below the right side of his neck down to his forearm, and spilling over the side slightly so that it covered a small part of his chest and back as well.

Most curious, though, were the numerous tattoos on his chest, back and arms, or so Briar thought. Some were underneath Harry's scars, and some were even hardly noticeable, having been almost charred off.

'What do they mean?' Briar asked, frowning, and Harry looked at him in surprise.

'What?' he asked.

'The tattoos,' Briar replied. 'There are so many of them that they must mean _something_.'

Harry scowled slightly, but shocked Briar after a moment's silence (Niko, Keth and Comas were now also shamelessly listening in) when he came out with a straight answer. 'Each one represents a friend or family member who died during either of the two wars against Voldemort.' He turned around and continued, 'The stag on my shoulder is for my father, and the flower next to it is for my mother. The wolf is for Professor Lupin – he was one of my dad's best friends. The rabbit is for Seamus Finnegan, and the stallion is for Dean Thomas. Underneath that there's a lavender for Lavender Brown, and the blue and red unicorns are for Padma and Parvati Patil. The rainbow is for Tonks: Nymphadora Tonks.' He turned around again, and began pointing out the ones on his arms and chest.

'Cho Chang,' his finger hovered above a swan positioned near the bottom of his ribcage. 'Luna Lovegood,' a strange animal near his neck, that Briar couldn't identify. 'It's a crumple-horned snorkack,' he explained, and Briar found himself nodding, despite the fact that he had no idea what a crumple-horned snorkack was.

'I thought I should probably have one for Professor Snape, too, even though we never liked each other much, because of what he sacrificed for the cause,' he was now pointing at a black snake on the front of his left shoulder. 'The badger's for Susan Bones, and the two monkeys are for Fred and George Weasley. The fox is for Ron Weasley, and the otter next to it is for Hermione Granger. The owl is for Ron's brother, Percy.'

He paused again, and moved his hand until it was hovering above an image of two intertwined angels. 'That's for Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan. The stoat is for Zacharias Smith, and the cherub is for Justin Finch-Flechley.' He pointed at a striped cat, 'Professor McGonagall,' he said, then pointed at a bumblebee on his side, 'Professor Dumbledore.'

'This one's for Ginny Weasley,' a weasel, ironically. 'Mr and Mrs Weasley,' a lion and lioness. The phoenix buried underneath his burn was apparently dedicated to someone called Bill Weasley, and the dragon underneath it was for Charlie Weasley. 'Padfoot,' he said, looking at one of the larger marks on his left forearm: 'Padfoot is my godfather, Sirius Black.'

He paused, and closed his eyes, gulping, before moving his hand to point at what looked like a tiger. 'Mad-Eye Moody – his real name was Alastor – that's because of the saying, "an old tiger is at its fiercest when it senses that its end is near". Mad-Eye was both paranoid and very fierce.' He smiled half-heartedly, clearly lost in memories, but when he pointed at the last mark, his eyes started tearing up.

It was a panther, and it seemed to be holding a small white mouse delicately in its jaws. Its position was directly above his heart. 'The mouse is me,' he said, his voice quiet, 'because I go all squeaky when I'm nervous. It's what Blaise used to call me. He's the panther. Blaise Zabini.'

It took Briar a moment to realise that he had finished his speech, but as soon as he did, he burst out with a question. 'Why is Blaise Zambini right over your heart?'

Harry snapped out of his daze, and seemed to realise who he was spilling his heart out to. 'It's _Za_bini, not _Zam_bini. There's no "m",' he snapped. 'And he's there because I loved him more than anyone or anything else in the entire universe.'

Briar flinched away from the younger boy's scowl, and it wasn't long before the bath-house filled with Keth and Niko's chatter. Briar was silent, though, thinking about everything he'd just been told.


	12. Chapter 12: Greenhouse Blues

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to peacockgal17 for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Unknown-Dreams (eleven times!), shazia)Riavera and Bookworm for reviewing.

To Unknown-Dreams: Hello again, _mellon nin_! Yes, distraught!Harry is wonderful, isn't he? And Harry/Briar; they go so well together. The comparison between Little Bear and Padfoot also made me slightly sad. I think it's just one of those little things that reminds everyone of how much he's lost, and of the tragic ending to OotP. Yes, Harry is quite sad. But we love him anyway, right? And… (snickers) Briar. Very cute. Yeah, Harry's beginning to come to grips with things in chapter six. The mind-entering thingy was just a spontaneous whim of mine: Tempting. So very tempting. Yeah, Harry foul moods are infectious, as always. Glaki _is_ adorable, isn't she? I loved her in _Shatterglass_, but she's even better when she's not a four-year-old any more. I think she reminds Harry of the childhood he never had, which is why he's so fond of her. Harry/Blaise is one of my favourite pairings, and I think that it's seriously underrated. I made the decision to put their past relationship in when I first joined the ship, to make things more complicated, and also just because I love Blaise (naturally). Communal baths (snorts). I love the concept. And Harry _would_ be horrified by the idea, even without all the scars. I love that scene.

To Bookworm: Yes, a reasonably happy ending. Though I have a soft spot for endings where one of the main characters suffers a tragic and moving death, I seem unable to actually write those kinds of scene. Neways, I've already finished writing _Lupines and Lilies_: there are 16 chapters in total, including the epilogue (which I'm especially fond of).

To shazia)Riavera: There are four books in the _Circle of Magic_ sequence, but in total, there are eight _Circle_ books: _The Magic in the Weaving (Sandry's Book), The Power in the Storm (Tris' Book), The Fire in the Forging (Daja's Book), The Healing in the Vine (Briar's Book), Magic Steps, Street Magic, Cold Fire_ and_ Shatterglass_. The last four are from the _Circle Opens_ sequence, and she's writing another _Circle_ sequence, too: the only named ones so far are_ The Will of the Empress: The Circle Reforged_ and _Melting Stones_.

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 12

'Harry? Briar?' Rosethorn called out to them as soon as they'd got back from the baths.

'Yes?' Briar answered, and Harry looked 'round to see what she wanted them for.

'Could you both run down to the carpenter's to pick up the cot they've made for your room?'

'Sure,' Briar answered, blinking, and Harry merely nodded. This was good. It meant that he wouldn't have to share a bed with Briar any more.

They were about to leave when there was a disturbance in the cottage. Little Bear was barking loudly, and Chime could be heard screeching for all she was worth in the kitchen. The door opened, and Harry caught the briefest glimpse of a man dressed in the yellow tunic of a Dedicate of the Air Temple, before ducking, as Chime let loose missiles of colourless, sharp glass.

'Crane!' came Lark's shout. 'Chime, Little Bear, calm down! Dedicate Crane, what are you doing here?'

Harry frowned, and scooped up one of the glass pieces on the floor before getting to his feet. He glanced at Lark and Crane, who were discussing something in hushed voices – something important, by the looks of it – and he would have stayed and strained his ears, if Rosethorn hadn't come in at that moment to see what all the ruckus was about, and sent him and Briar on their merry way.

As they made their way silently towards the carpenters' workshop, Harry stared thoughtfully at the bloody glass in his hand, and by the time they arrived, he had had a brainwave.

'Can I take a small piece of wood away?' he asked the carpenter quietly as he and Briar gathered up the pieces they would need to assemble the bed.

The carpenter – a middle-aged, mousy man – looked surprised, but said that he was welcome to.

'Thanks,' Harry said, and he picked up a long, thin block of wood, which he placed in his pocket, along with the glass spike, before gathering up some more parts of the "cot".

They made their way back to Discipline Cottage together, again, in silence, and as soon as they'd finished setting up the bed in Briar's room and Briar himself had gone out to help in the garden, Harry sat himself down in the corner of the room, where he got out the glass, wood, and a sharp rock that he'd found, as well as a tin of broom polish from his trunk, and then he sat down and got to work.

He used the rock as a chisel of sorts, and soon he had what looked like a thin stick in his hand, and quite a few pieces of chipped wood on the floor. A small, wandless spell was all he needed to bury the glass inside the wood. Finally, he covered the whole thing with a thin layer of broom polish, and looked at his work. It wasn't as good as, say, one of Ollivander's, but it would do.

He grinned, and when he left the room for dinner, he was in a better mood than he'd been in a long while.

-------

'What did Crane want?' Briar asked Lark and Rosethorn at dinner, immediately grabbing the attention of the rest of the table.

Lark smiled, and Rosethorn sighed, shooting a glance towards Harry. 'He volunteered to be Harry's teacher,' Lark said.

Harry looked up, and Briar could see quite a large amount of apprehension in his eyes. 'What exactly would that entail?' he asked.

'You'd just have to turn up at the greenhouse for meditation, and he'd teach you control of your magic,' Rosethorn said. Briar – and, from his expression, Harry, too – detected no small amount of venom in the way she said the word "greenhouse", and Harry balked.

'Greenhouse?' he repeated, and Briar noticed that the squeak in his voice had returned. He was beginning to see why this Blaise guy had called Harry "Mouse", but he didn't understand why Harry was so scared of the idea of being taught in a greenhouse.

Rosethorn nodded, and both she and Lark were frowning by now. The rest of Discipline's current residents just stared curiously at the exchange.

'You know, I really don't need a teacher any more,' Harry said hurriedly. 'I've been being taught for almost seven years now, and I've learned enough to be able to control my magic easily enough.'

Rosethorn frowned again, and Lark said kindly, 'Is there some objection to the greenhouse?'

Harry nodded, and seemed to shrink slightly in embarrassment.

'Greenhouses aren't nice, I know,' Briar spoke up, 'but Rosethorn and I managed to work in one without too much trouble.'

'Why?' Lark asked, ignoring Briar's words.

'Hermione,' Harry said quietly. 'Her body was found in one of the school greenhouses.'

For a moment, Briar thought that he was going to be sick. Hermione Granger was one of the people who'd been depicted on Harry's chest – an otter.

Lark blanched, while everyone else tried very hard not to do the same. Rosethorn answered that she'd tell Crane in the morning, and then everyone went to bed, spirits considerably lower than they had been earlier.


	13. Chapter 13: Possessive

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to kayly silverstorm for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank mrs trevor, Blood-Covered-Ivory, peacockgal17 and Unknown-Dreams for reviewing.

To mrs trevor: Fear not! Things get better from here. And did I say undwerstatement? I meant understatement. Sorry.

To Blood-Covered-Ivory: No, Harry's not going to have to train to be a mage. He's not exactly going to have to convince them, either, though – they'll just figure it out themselves eventually.

To kayly silverstorm: Only one scene with Harry actually _using_ his wand (I think), but, yeah, it's cool. And the bathroom scene is my favourite yet.

------ I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 13

As hard as he tried to sleep that night, Harry's past kept coming back to haunt him, and on the rare occasion that he did manage to fall asleep, he would wake up again in cold sweat, what felt like no more than two or three minutes later. Every small thing reminded him of something bigger – something worse:

His hair was damp, and he could see the pale, accusing expression on Ron's face as they dragged him out of the lake. The thunder roared outside, and he could hear Hagrid's roar of fury as he was brought down by three Death Eaters. Lightning flashed past the window, and Harry could see the green light of the _avada kedavra_ curse hit Ginny in the back. The smell of cooked meat from dinner lingered in the air, and Harry was back in the Shrieking Shack, bound and gagged, and staring in horror as Remus' face sizzled and burnt underneath Wormtail's silver hand, while the knife twisted in the werewolf's gut. He could hear the creaking of ropes from the ships arriving outside the city wall, and he could see Hermione's corpse hanging by the wrists from the roof of greenhouse three, swaying slightly in the breeze allowed by the open door. An owl hooted in the darkness, and he remembered Hedwig and then he could hear McGonagall informing the Gryffindor Common Room that Neville had been killed by Draco Malfoy while he was searching the corridors for Trevor the Toad. Briar was muttering in his sleep, and Harry could hear the whispering voices behind the veil: the same veil that Sirius had fallen through only a few hours later. He could hear the floorboards creaking as someone moved about upstairs, and he was breaking into Grimmauld Place with Luna by his side, setting up a trap for the Death Eaters that had decapitated her almost as soon as they'd walked into it. He was cold, and he could feel Blaise's cool skin under his hands as he screamed, begging his lover to wake up, to stop pretending, to come back, because Harry didn't know how to live without him.

And, finally, he gave up, and tumbled out of bed, because there was only one way that he might be able to sleep.

-------

'Briar… Briar.' He muttered, and rolled over at the hoarse voice. It was too early to be waking up.

'_Briar_.' This time, something in the hissed words hinted at either desperation or urgency, and Briar opened his eyes half-heartedly, only to see that it was still very much the middle of the night, that there was a storm roaring outside, and that there was a slight, anxious-looking boy crouched by his side with eyes of the brightest green that he'd ever seen in all his eighteen years.

_Harry_, his mind provided him with the name as he slurred out, 'Wass'amadder?'

'What?' Harry asked, wrinkling his forehead slightly.

'What's the matter?' he managed to repeat his question, rather more coherently than it had been the first time he'd asked.

'I couldn't sleep,' he said, blushing in embarrassment.

'What's am I supposed to do about that?' Briar asked.

'Could I – um – I mean, would it be okay if I stayed here for the night?' His face was so red by now that it was practically glowing, and Briar, not wanting to have been woken up for no reason, scooted over a little, giving Harry space to climb onto the mattress next to him, and then wrapped his arms around Harry's small frame.

'What you said at dinner,' Briar began hesitantly after a moment's silence, 'did you mean it? That you already knew how to control your magic, I mean?'

'Yeah, for the most part,' Harry replied. 'Sometimes it gets a little out of control when I'm _really _angry, but there's not usually _too_ much damage caused.'

'What's the worst that's happened?'

'I blew up my aunt,' was the answer, and definitely not the answer that Briar had expected. 'Not as in, I made her explode. Just like, I inflated her, and she started floating. It didn't do me any favours, though. The accidental magic reversal squad had to come and get her off the ceiling and obliviate her, and my uncle and my other aunt were _furious_.'

Briar didn't vocalise his answer, but instead tightened his arms around Harry, and watched as thee younger boy drifted into dreamland.

Watching him sleep, Briar found his mind drifting to the mouse and the panther tattooed over Harry's heart, and he leant down and kissed him lightly on his scar, growling quietly in a slightly possessive manner.

And, when he himself was drifting off, his sleepy head was filled with muddled thoughts and images of Harry, and he found himself thinking that, just maybe, Tris might have been onto something with all her talk of crushes.


	14. Chapter 14: Magecraft

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to summer last time for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Qem, flit, Unknown-Dreams and Allisarte for reviewing.

To flit: I didn't mean that I'd _stopped_; I just meant that I've finished _writing _the story… there's still… (checks…) two more chapters after this one.

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 14

'The only thing I know for sure,' Harry said, a faraway look in his eyes, 'is that when you're walking through Hell, you have to keep on walking, because there's no turning back, and if you just stand still, then you'll never get out.'

He'd opened up a little more since the night when he'd come crawling into Briar's bed, but Briar knew that if he pushed too far, then the younger boy would freeze up again in an instant: he'd seen it many times when he'd been on the streets.

That considered, he decided to ask the less personal of the two questions pushing at his mind. 'What's Hell?'

Harry looked at him in surprise, but then seemed to remember something, and he answered, 'I suppose you wouldn't know. It's a religious thing, really, back home: a bit like an afterlife of sorts. Heaven and Hell: Hell's for the sinners, and Heaven's for the believers. Rubbish, if you ask me, but the way I meant it, Hell is the worst thing you could ever imagine, or even something you couldn't.'

His words didn't quite make sense at first, but Briar puzzled them out eventually, and then gathered up the guts to ask a second question: 'When did you walk through Hell?'

Harry's eyes met his for a second, and he was momentarily stunned by the ripples of emotion he could see in them, but then they flickered back towards the ground as Harry replied, 'I told you, there was a war. And everyone expected me to save them. I did, eventually, but there's always a price to pay for victory.'

'Your sanity?'

Harry smiled bitterly. 'That, too. I meant the deaths of everyone I ever cared about, though.'

'The people in your tattoos?'

Harry nodded, and then they were back at Discipline's gate, where they saw Rosethorn beckoning to them, and quickly marched over to join her in the garden.

-------

Now that he'd been around longer, Harry was beginning to see bits and pieces of the "Magecraft" that his new friends (or not, depending) seemed to practice.

It was subtle, and they didn't use it except when they needed to, which explained why he hadn't noticed it before, but when he looked closely, he could see signs of it everywhere:

The plants in Rosethorn's garden practically _oozed_ with health, which not even Aunt Petunia had been able to achieve, and she'd been particularly fussy about making sure that all her plants were as well presented as they possibly could be. The small trinkets that Tris, Daja and Keth sometimes brought back from their workshops were more small signs: they gave of an ethereal energy, which seemed to pulse inside them, almost like the magic bound inside the walls of Hogwarts had, but to a lesser extent.

And, looking closely, the tattoos on Briar's hands moved, almost like a wizarding portrait.

Talking of Briar… Harry wasn't sure _how_ he was supposed to feel, really. It had only been a few months since Blaise had died, and the half-Italian had made it clear from the minute things began to get serious that if anything ever happened to him, Harry would have to move on. Live again.

He just wasn't sure how.


	15. Chapter 15: Rain, and a Sign

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to witchfire37 for being the first reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Wind-DragonMasterZ, shazia)Riavera, Escagirl, Unknown-Dreams and peacockgal17 for reviewing.

To Wind-DragonMasterZ: (Nervous chuckles) So I did. Can we just pretend that Harry didn't have a chance to get that tattoo before the end of the war and his impromptu arrival in Emelan? Because I really don't want to have to go back and change that. Thanks for pointing that out, though!

Only one chapter left: brace yourselves!

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Chapter 15

Daja, Tris, Briar and Harry were walking back to Discipline, Little Bear bounding ahead, when it started pouring. Tris, after frowning at Daja and Briar's complaint, swiftly directed the rain away from them, creating a bowl-like effect. Harry, as Briar had come to expect, was silent, lost in his own thoughts.

The rain-shield was more than big enough to cover the four of them, as well as Little Bear, who'd come scurrying back to Tris as soon as the rain had started, but Briar only took a moment to notice that Harry had dropped back, seemingly deliberately staying in the rain.

'Why don't you come here?' Daja asked curiously.

Harry met her eyes evenly, but remained silent.

It seemed that Tris had tired of the silence after a few moments, and she snapped at him, 'Do you _want_ to get soaked?'

The whole group had stopped walking by now, and Briar watched Harry and Tris' exchange with slight trepidation, remembering their previous clashes in personality when Harry answered. 'I like the rain,' he said quietly, remaining stubbornly outside the shelter, and with shimmering water droplets running down his face and into his eyes, where he didn't bother to wipe them away, and plastering his hair to his head, effectively covering his scar.

The answer was unexpected. Even Tris, the weather witch, didn't like rain, and never hesitated to usher it away from her, when she couldn't hurry it on its way. It was Daja, though, who asked him why.

'It washes the blood away.' Briar sighed. The answer was simple, murmured, and matter-of-fact, just like everything else he said.

He dropped behind, and gestured for the girls to go on without him. When they were gone, he said to Harry, 'You're different, aren't you?'

Harry looked at him, and the darkness in his eyes seemed to lift. 'It took you this long to notice?'

'Just stating the obvious,' Briar answered. 'I have a talent for it.'

Harry laughed, a tinkling, musical laugh, that actually seemed to mean something, and Briar's heart lifted.

'You're going to catch a cold,' he said, and Harry rolled his eyes, taking out the stick that he'd carved earlier and tapping himself on the head with it. '_Impervius_,' he said, and the water sprung away from him. He then turned and did the same for Briar, without even being asked.

It was at that moment that Briar made his decision. And once that'd happened, nothing short of the gods could make him change his mind.

-------

Harry sat in the room, looking through his photo album, and removing various documents from behind the moving pictures of everyone he'd loved in his own world.

His parents came first, along with the Marauders, and Lily's friends, and later pictures were full of happily waving images of himself, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Blaise, Seamus, Dean, etc, etc…

He was interrupted from his reminiscing by a the sound of the bedroom door creaking open, and he turned to see Briar standing there nervously, shifting from one foot to the other with one arm behind his back.

Harry tipped his head to the side in a gesture of curiosity. Briar grinned and entered the room, closing the door gently but securely behind him.

'Mornin',' he said cheerfully, but nervousness still lingered in his eyes.

'What's behind you back?' Harry asked bluntly, and it seemed to grow tenfold.

The grin became fixed, and Briar just managed to squeak out, 'For you,' before holding out two healthy flowers for Harry to take.

Harry met Briar's eyes, and his own widened in realisation. In the older boy's, he could see fear, anxiety, and something else entirely… something he'd seen before: In Blaise's.

'A lupin,' Briar said, meaning the flower, 'and a lily. You did say that they were your favourites.'

Harry could interpret the unasked question perfectly. 'And if you die, too?' he asked.

'When I die, they'll burn me. Then I can watch over you until you die in bed… as an old man. We'll be together again, then, won't we, Harry?'

Harry smiled, and blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes. He nodded, and took the two flowers from Briar's hand. 'I guess so,' was his only answer.


	16. Epilogue: The Garden of Eden

Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to angelicattie for being the 100th reviewer.

Miss Moony would also like to thank Serpent of Light, Unknown-Dreams and I Am The Bunny Slayer for reviewing.

To Serpent of Light: I'm currently in the OMGOMGOMG phase of realising that you've reviewed, seeing as I am a _massive_ fan of _On Pirates, Wizards and Sharp Pointy Objects_ (even if I never review from this account), but I'll get over it in a second and be able to focus on answering your question. (Calms down) okay, I can think of two others off the top of my head – one's a semi-crackfic (though I don't know if that was intentional or not) called _Harry Potter and the Circle of Confusion_ by Jeanne2. The other's called_ The Circle Continues_ by Sakura Rhapsody, and though it's quite slow-paced, it's well written. Both are archived here on ffnet. Umm… I _think_ that's it, but I've been wrong before. You could always check the HP/Tamora Pierce thread in the _Back in Giles' Day…_ thread at _Fiction Alley Park_ and there might be some others there. Thank you for reviewing (is properly awed that you liked the other ficlets as well).

To angelicattie: Yeah, I know. That's the scene that inspired that mini-story.

To Unknown-Dreams: Aww, you're that eager to see it over? (Mourns.)

To I Am The Bunny Slayer: Was that supposed to be a "gah" of appreciation or disgust?

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Epilogue

The sun shone brightly over Rosethorn's garden as Briar and Harry carried various objects outside. The photo album, the documents that had been removed from it, a few letters and doodles, and a book: _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_.

'Are you okay?' Briar asked, his tattooed hand covering Harry's smaller one.

The green-eyed boy smiled and nodded reassuringly at his partner of two months.

'Let's go, then.' Daja, Tris, Lark, Rosethorn, Niko, Frostpine, Evvy, Keth, Comas and Glaki were divided between three rugs in the garden, and they had been joined by Pasco and Sandry, who had come over from Summersea for this little chitchat between friends.

Harry returned to his their shared room briefly and collected his penseive, flickering with surface images of a small, black-haired, green-eyed boy dressed in black, red and gold.

He sat down on the rug next to Briar, who took his hand, showing his support. Glaki came across and sat herself down in Harry's lap, abandoning Little Bear to drape himself lazily over Tris.

The surface of the penseive showed an image of a small hut perched on a rock, in the middle of the ocean in a rainstorm, picking up on what Harry subconsciously thought was the beginning of the real world.

He opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and began to tell his story…

-------

There was a garden in the afterlife: half of it was a tangled mess, because Briar would need something to keep him occupied now that life was over.

A plump, round-faced boy knelt in the soil at the far end, and Briar recognised him as Neville Longbottom from Harry's photos and memories.

Looking around, he could see other familiar faces of people he'd never met before, too. Luna Lovegood, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and a few others whose names slipped his mind.

There was only one other of consequence: A tall, dark-skinned boy approached Briar with a wicked gleam in his dark eyes.

'You're Briar, right?' he asked, and received a nod in return. 'I'm Blaise. Blaise Zabini.'

Briar took his hand firmly and shook, regarding the first person to have captured Harry's heart.

'Harry talks about you all the time,' Blaise continued, 'when he's not blabbering on about how wonderful his parents are. He's missed you, you know.'

There was no resentment in the other boy's gaze, and Briar thought that, had the positions been reversed, he wouldn't be handling this nearly so well.

'He's with Mrs. Potter and Professor Lupin at the moment: over there, if you want to see him.' Blaise pointed towards a gate at the back of the garden, and Briar could just about make out figures through the thick, thorny vines that grew over the gate: briars.

He moved towards the second garden, towards Harry, when Blaise called back to him with a grin, 'I should probably warn you. Beware the Potter males: they're stubborn as mules, the lot of them.' His smile grew. 'But you already knew that, didn't you?'

But the dark-skinned boy was gone by the time Briar turned back to respond.

------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------

Dear readers,

To those of you who were hoping for more, I apologise, but this is the end of Lupines and Lilies, and I thank you all for bearing with me through the author's block, multiple computer problems, and general laziness.

To those of you who are only reading because you got author alerts for it when you were hoping I'd updated The Chosen, Missing You or Wolf and Serpent, I thank you for your patience, and I hope that you've enjoyed whatever of this story you might've read.

Thank you all. Goodbye for now.

Moonshadow


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